


Diagnosis

by CinnamonMarshmallow



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro-centric, Angst, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, M/M, No Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25551523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnamonMarshmallow/pseuds/CinnamonMarshmallow
Summary: Heart palpitations, a near-constant churning in his stomach, an inability to focus- all signs of an ailment Akechi believes he has caught.(Only Kurusu could turn this annoyance of an ailment into the most insufferable thing on the planet.)
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 11
Kudos: 74





	Diagnosis

Akechi’s hypothesis was simple. He hypothesised that he had started to develop an illness, starting from the start of this month. He admitted that he was unable to proceed beyond that, questions of what illness it was or why he had started developing it laid unanswered in his head. 

The symptoms were less than tolerable. The cold sweat, the heart palpitations, the clammy palms that were thankfully hidden by his gloves. The warm discomfort that he, oddly enough, felt more acutely whenever he was around Akira. All of it set off alarms in his head. It felt wrong, it was wrong, a person like him shouldn’t be experiencing such amateur setbacks like this. 

Yet, in a manner much unlike his usual character, he was fine with tolerating the annoying symptoms and leaving this mystery unexplored. After all, the metaphorical judge had already swung the gavel, his hypothesis all but proven by his denial that it would be anything else but a mere malady. There was simply no other explanation for the discomfort that had started to embrace his body, an unnerving oxymoron of the uneasy, parodic seduction of a warm hug. 

There was absolutely no explanation. None at all. Yet he was sure that this would fade, he would be able to overcome this unexpected obstacle. He always did, whether it be through insufferable patience or a decidedly impatient bullet. 

Sitting in his barren room, as the not-so-hidden camera in his built-in air-conditioner focused on him, Akechi made a resolution to himself.

This ailment would not hinder his mission. It would certainly not hinder it. He never failed his mission. He would not fail. 

He could not fail.

————-

The longer his body remained pulled down by this mystery ailment, the more annoyed Akechi grew. 

He had become slightly more choleric, or perhaps it was just a growing inability to hide it. Both options were equally bad, really. While Akechi did not believe himself to be a spineless coward, this slippery slope was far too risky to even approach. Hence, bottling it up it was. 

Bottling it up it always was.

That was why, in a weird twisted way, he loved the Metaverse. 

In the Metaverse, there were no rules. Of course there were no rules, the only thing that constrained a person in the Metaverse was any arbitrary sense of morality they had, capricious ethics that somehow did not contradict _their_ ill-defined sense of justice. 

Akechi supposed that it was a good thing that he had long discarded any semblance of a socially acceptable moral compass when he picked up that gun 2 years ago. Not having an intangible weight in his heart whenever he decided to indulge in his own little pathetic escapism made unleashing his fury upon poor shadows much more soothing. The crude fusion of wrath and escapism that he found himself falling into more and more frequently these days.

Who could blame him for it though? This… mystery ailment was like nothing he had ever experienced. It was disgusting, it defiled his body, yet… he wanted more. Such desires were unwelcome, he had to concentrate on his mission, and yet...

Akechi sighed in frustration. Getting worked up was useless and most likely counterproductive, he told himself. Despite that, his feelings were quickly spiralling out of control. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to go back to the schoolwork he had been trying to complete, only to blanch in horror.

The pen which he had been absentmindedly clenching had been pressing into the worksheet for God knows how long, leaving a vibrant mess of pooled ink. He swore, knowing that his work was beyond ruined, with the abysmal quality of school paper practically guaranteeing that the ink had bled through the pristine white sheet and rendered the pages below unusable. Of all days to use a fountain pen...

In hindsight, it was borderline hysterical that out of all things, this would be the straw that broke the camel's back. But at that moment, it felt as if everything truly clicked. Everything that, when combined, painted an illustrious painting of why Akechi’s life was absolutely horrible. 

This ailment- no, he could no longer play the fool, the _love_ that filled his heart for, of all people, Akira _fucking_ Kurusu. The first innocent feeling he had experienced since he was young, since he picked up the gun, was going to be the thing that ruined him. What a perfect cherry-on-top for the rotten parfait of his life. 

Well, not anymore. A sudden burst of emotion, a cruel amalgamation of jadedness, desperation and perhaps even hope fueled him to pick up his phone and type a simple message of ‘Hello, I am free tomorrow and would like to seek your company for the day. If you are busy, that is fine, I simply wish to speak to you before we steal Sae’s heart. Alone of course. Would you be willing to indulge my whims?’. 

And _send._

The quick response of ‘Okay, where?’, despite its briefness, brought about a new flame of hope in his eyes. He, even knowing that what he was doing was a great risk, could not prevent a sincere smile from gracing his face. 

Perhaps this was an opportunity to turn this all around. To take his life into his hands once and for all.

——————-

Akechi entered the quaint, retro-styled cafe with a small smile. 

“Good evening Kurusu, it is always a pleasure to see you. Thank you for agreeing to meet up with me on such short notice, this does mean quite a lot to me.” 

Of all the places that Akechi frequented, Leblanc firmly guarded its position as one of the few places he truly had a liking towards. It was, of course, the home to a certain Phantom Thief, but even without his presence making the establishment infinitely more attractive, the cafe still had a certain charm to it. The cafe was criminally underrated, just the way he liked it. 

Kurusu nodded minutely. “Your usual?” Quiet as always. Akechi supposed that it was a charm.

After a quick “Yes, thank you.”, Akechi sat down at his usual seating place and simply observed. Observation was a skill originally born from nothing else but need, used for nothing other than dissecting the flaws of humanity. He had to admit, this was the first time he did so for the pure pleasure of it. 

Kurusu, in a superficial sense, was unfalteringly average, everything about his appearance pointed to someone who would easily homogenise into the monotonous Japanese society. 

In spite of that, he managed to be someone extraordinary. From a piece of attic trash with a criminal record to the leader of the Phantom Thieves, surrounded by countless confidants. 

The envious disgust he initially felt still existed, though the mild intrigue had unconsciously turned into something that, when he was younger, he might have called enjoyment. It was not love, _definitely_ not love, but the feeling was just as nonsensical. 

Yet it was also an olive branch. He would be a fool not to at least try and reach out for it before it was too late. After all, if there was one person who could do so, of course, it would be Mr. fucking Golden Boy himself. He ignored the fact that he was already a gone case and let him bask in forgotten hope. 

“Kurusu, I have a confession to make.” Well, it was time for the leap of faith.

Kurusu remained stoic, only nodding once to Morgana, signalling to the cat to take its leave. Once the cat left, albeit with a concern laced tone, Akechi continued talking. 

“Ever since I met you, you have intrigued me. Recently, I have discovered that this intrigue I initially felt had... morphed. Hanging out with you has truly made me fond of you, you are someone that I, for the first time in a while, can call a... friend.” Sincerely bled from every word that he forced out. 

Akechi tried to maintain eye contact but quickly gave up, directing his intense gaze into the dark, murky pools of liquid in his ceramic cup. His eyes trailed the wisps of smoke, trying desperately to compose himself. 

“I am honestly not so sure how to phrase this but I believe that somewhere along the line, I had started to gain feelings for you. Feelings of not only admiration but also affection. I still do believe you to be a fantastic rival and above all, an equal. My feelings confused me at first and frankly, still do confuse me now.” 

_Keep calm, keep calm, keep calm._

“From all the things about you that irritate me, a strange sort of jealousy was born. And from that... I suppose you could call it love.” 

Realising that he had been rambling, Akechi raised his hand and chuckled quietly, the silence bearing upon him like a weight. He had to wrap this up soon, or else he would lose all semblance of control over the situation. 

“Enough beating around the bush. What I truly wish to ask is, do you at least accept my feelings?” 

Akechi looked up and held Kurusu’s still stoic gaze. A plea had started to repeat over and over in his mind, a silent mantra aimed at a speculative God. 

_please accept please accept please acceptgodpleas-_

Kurusu’s hard voice shattered the tense silence. “I thought that you hated me.”

Akechi blinked. He did say that, didn’t he. A memory resurfaced to support Kurusu’s statement, a scathing ‘I hate you’ accompanied by a thrown glove and promises of future victory. 

Akechi smiled, trying to mask the unease bubbling in his heart. “Well... hate and love are two sides of the same coin, are they not? They really are not that dissimilar, it is not impossible to believe that hatred can morph into love, or vice versa. Perhaps it can even exist alongside it.” 

The sudden nervousness loudened the prayer in his head to a crescendo. 

_Please accept me,_ he wanted to scream at Kurusu’s conflicted face. 

_Please accept me so I have a reason not to do this. Please accept me so I know that it is not too late for me. Please accept me so I have a reason to become a better person._

_Please, just please accept me._

Finally, Kurusu spoke up. “I...” 

Akechi perked up, trying not to appear too eager. “Yes?”

Kurusu looked at him proper, holding with gaze with a steadfast resoluteness. 

‘I’m sorry, I have to reject your feelings.”

The risk failed. The olive branch disintegrated before his eyes. He was falling, falling, falling from his failed leap of faith. 

And Akechi’s heart, already collapsing at the mere graze of Cupid’s arrow, crumbled.

_So this is love._

—————-

Akechi was happy. 

He, at first, was broken. Pride irreversibly damaged and heart shattered, he could do nothing stammer out an apology before scampering out of Leblanc, his metaphorical tail between his quivering legs. For a few days, Akechi just sat at home. He had trouble waking up. He didn’t want to wake up. 

He allowed autopilot to dictate his life, his body, his interactions. Meanwhile, he let out silent tears in the back of his mind. It was all a blur, he could not remember much. 

For once, he appreciated the break that Joker had chosen to take before sending Sae Nijima the calling card. He’d rather break down during this moment of respite than in the palace, in full view of everyone.

After what felt like an eternity, his heart finally became rebound by the masking tape called ressentiment. Akechi decided that he was happy. In fact, he decided that his relief was immeasurable. 

Joker had done him a great service, he believed. Joker had helped him overcome a challenge that he was unable to progress from, had helped him refocus after his traitorous feelings decided to obfuscate his mission. 

Joker had given him a reason to shoot. 

_Thank you, Joker_ , He thought viciously as he trained his gun on Akira’s head. _Your service will be remembered._

He smiled savagely.

“Case closed, this is how your justice ends.” 

_BANG_

_MISSION SUCCESS_

**Author's Note:**

> I was hesitant to post this, as I'm sure all writers are when it comes to uploading their first fic. I don't consider myself a magnificent writer in any capacity but it felt like a shame to let this piece rot in the sunken depths of Google Docs. Nonetheless, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed a little analysis of Akechi's very fucked up psyche!
> 
> Thanks to my dear friend and actual good writer[ HakoX2](/users/HakoX2/), for checking through my writing and putting up with my bullshit lmao


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